


Storm in a Teacup

by reona32



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, I've never actually been to Central Park, M/M, Steve is the best boyfriend ever, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 23:03:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reona32/pseuds/reona32
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is aware that his lover is a genius and that sometimes Tony gets himself incredibly worked up when he’s exhausted and frustrated. He knows how to deal with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storm in a Teacup

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-read. All mistakes my own. This was supposed to be a little bit of fluff that demanded a bit of hanky-panky at the end.

Steve was just stepping out of the shower after a run and a few rounds with the punching bag when Jarvis called for him. “Captain Rogers?” the AI asked politely. Jarvis was always unfailingly polite with the other inhabitants of the tower.

“I’ve asked you several times to call me Steve, Jarvis,” Steve said, toweling his hair.

“Indeed, Captain,” replied Jarvis.

Steve rolled his eyes. He’d been trying to get the AI to address him less formally for months. “What can I do for you, Jarvis?” The alarm wasn’t shrieking, so it wasn’t Avengers’ business.

“I believe Sir requires an intervention, Captain.”

Steve hadn’t seen Tony for more than a few minutes for the past three days but the genius hadn’t looked too bad during those sightings. It was usually for coffee, a couple bites of food, and a quick smooch on Steve’s cheek before returning to his workshop. Compared to how Tony would sometimes completely disappear for over a week, this was mild. Jarvis shouldn’t be calling in the cavalry so soon. “What’s wrong? Is he not eating or drinking?”

“Dr. Banner shared some of his cheese crackers an hour ago and Sir has drunk several bottles of water,” reported Jarvis. “That is not the type of intervention of which I speak, Captain.” Ah, then it wasn’t that their resident genius was in the middle of a fit of brilliant creation in which he forgot all bodily needs in his mania until he eventually collapsed, project completed or just simply unable to continue on. It was more of a fit of all consuming annoyance and building anger where none of Tony’s ideas coalesced into brilliant creation and the mounting frustration would keep intensifying until it imploded and Tony descended into depression and despair where he thought himself useless, worthless, and a moron. Steve almost preferred Tony fainting from exhaustion. It scared him less than the unrelenting misery and desolation Tony displayed after the second event. (Steve was afraid Tony would do something unspeakable during one of those black moods.) “Sir has just thrown a wrench through a flimsy screen and Dummy is cowering in the corner,” Jarvis announced.

“Right,” Steve said firmly, yanking on a shirt. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Steve didn’t care what you thought about advanced technology; that was relief in the AI’s voice. He grabbed his backpack and stuffed his sketchbook and pencils inside. He hurried through the living room, snatching up one of the computer tablets that were always floating around, and into the kitchen where he added some snack bars and a couple bottles of water to the backpack. Steve then took the elevator down to Tony’s workshop, leaving the backpack tucked into the corner of the lift.

He could tell Tony wasn’t having a good time just by the volume of the music. Normally the soundproofing was enough that you could barely hear it outside of the workshop but now it was loud enough that the paintings in the hallway shook. Steve watched as some knickknack he didn’t want to know the price of rattled off a small decorative table and crashed to the floor. He feared for Tony’s hearing. Through the glass wall Steve could see Tony with several holograms floating around him, one hand gesturing and the other stabbing the air with the point of a screwdriver. He looked enraged, hair a wild greasy nest on top of his head and mouth moving a mile a minute, although Steve had no hope of hearing what Tony was saying over the music. There was a mass of melted metal on the table nearby, gently smoking. Steve approached the glass wall and the key pad appeared before he could even touch the surface, which he usually had to do to activate it. He punched in his code and yanked open the door. The music, full of drums and guitars, nearly knocked him off his feet. “Turn it off, Jarvis!” he shouted at a pitch he hadn’t had to use since WWII and he had needed to project his voice over a field of explosions.

The noise snapped off and Tony’s voice rushed in, “…most idiotic thing I’ve ever seen in my life! Where the hell did those numbers come from? Those aren’t my numbers! My numbers don’t misbehave like that! My numbers make sense!” His whole body jerked like a live wire and he swung his head up in confusion. “Where did my music go?”

“Tony?” Steve called softly. Tony spun around and Steve caught his wrist carefully before the engineer could stab him with the screwdriver.

“Steve!” yelped Tony, eyes wide and manic. If Steve wasn’t completely certain that Tony would never, he’d think him under the influence of some sort of drug. He gently uncurled Tony’s fingers from around the screwdriver and tossed it away. It clanged on the table and Tony jumped, jerking his head toward the sound and suspiciously searching for the source of the noise. Steve winced guiltily. “Steve!” Tony pleaded in a high harsh tone, abandoning the sudden noise. He grabbed Steve’s shirt with his free hand and yanked. “It’s a conspiracy, Steve! You’ve got to help me! Jarvis is messing up my numbers and Dummy sabotaged my prototype!”

“I assure you, Sir, neither of us have done any such thing,” soothed Jarvis.

Tony glared up at the ceiling. “Don’t lie to me, you Mussolini of computer programs! It won’t work! It’s messed up! Damn you all!” He dropped his eyes to the mess of metal and seemed to deflate. “Stupid, useless piece of shit,” Tony muttered, taking a step toward the table.

Steve knew he was not talking about the prototype and reeled him back in, curling his arms around Tony in a tight hug. “Don’t say things like that,” Steve muttered into his dirty hair.

For a moment, Tony stood placidly in the circle of Steve’s arms but then he tensed like one of Clint’s bow strings. “I do not need to be babied!” he snapped, pushing away. Steve let him go rather than get into a fight. Tony wasn’t strong enough to really hurt Steve but he could smack him during his mindless flailing. The bruise would probably last all of 10 minutes but Tony would feel awful when he calmed down. “I’m fine!” Tony barked. He stormed around the table and gave something on the floor a sharp kick. Metal clattered across the room.

“Of course,” Steve agreed calmly. “Why don’t you come upstairs and shower? It will make you feel better.”

Tony looked down at himself, at the once green t-shirt that was stained with coffee and grease and had a series of tiny holes that had been burned around the hem at some point. He rubbed his hands down his torso and only managed to add another layer of grim. He made a face. “I was busy!” Tony cried, defensive. He fidgeted and rubbed at his arms, as if his skin had suddenly started to itch.

“I know you were but now that you have a moment it would be a good time to shower and change.” Steve was the embodiment of reasonable, trying to keep his voice hopeful but not judgmental.

Tony huffed and stomped aimlessly around the workshop, coming to a stop at the table again. “Stupid thing won’t work,” he complained, like a dog with a bone.

“I know. I’m sorry. Perhaps as shower will give you time to think about it?” suggested Steve. He waited for the idea of the shower to trickle through Tony’s brain past the numbers and schematics and other thoughts that crowded there. It sometimes took a few tries when he was like this. Tony scowled down at the pile of metal before nodding sharply and heading for the door. “Jarvis, save everything Tony was working on please,” Steve ordered, following Tony from the workshop.

“Of course, Captain.”

Tony strode quickly down the hallway, Steve on his heels. The elevator door opened in front of them and Tony barreled inside, huddling against the back wall and glaring at the floor. The elevator rose and Steve reached forward to stroke Tony’s tense shoulders. The dark haired man hunched further into himself and Steve stepped back. Tony’s obviously did not want to be touched just then. The doors opened and Tony shot from the elevator and across the penthouse floor to the bedroom. Steve followed more slowly.

Tony ran out of steam in the middle of the bedroom, simply standing at the end of the bed while chewing furiously on his thumbnail. Steve watched as he hopped on his toes, agitated, before changing direction and heading toward the table where a computer tablet lay. Steve quickly intercepted him, catching his elbow gently. “No, come on. You came up here for a shower, remember?” Tony gave a wordless growl of frustration and tried to wiggle away. Steve guided him firmly toward the bathroom door. “Come on. I know you can’t be comfortable like that,” he soothed. The bathroom lights came on, revealing dark marble counters and stone floors.

Steve tried to work Tony’s t-shirt off but Tony slapped at his hands and pushed him away. “I can do it! I’m not that useless!” Tony toed off his boots and kicked them across the room where they thumped against the wall and then ripped off his t-shirt and flung it away as well. The arc reactor shone blue in the center of his chest. An angry flush stained Tony’s cheeks as he pointed toward the door. “Out! Leave me alone!”

Steve nodded calmly. “I’ll be just outside.” He left the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Something hit the other side of the door just as it latched but Steve ignored it. He sat down on the edge of the bed and sighed, running a wary hand over his face.

“I apologize, Captain Rogers. I should have contacted you sooner. I did not realize Sir’s level of frustration had risen so high,” Jarvis said mournfully.

Steve shook his head. “It’s alright, Jarvis. I just wish he’d stop doing this to himself.”

“If it is any consolation, Captain, these episodes have become less frequent now that you and the other Avengers are living in the Tower.”

Steve gave a crooked little smile. “It is a little, Jarvis. What is he doing now?”

“Sir is in the shower, abusing the soap dispenser.”

“Of course he is. Call Happy and have him meet us down in the garage in a little while. Have him get one of the town cars, not the limo.”

“Yes, Captain,” replied Jarvis. Steve imagined he could hear the splashing sounds of the shower from where he sat, even though he knew the level of soundproofing would defeat even his advanced hearing. He flopped back against the bed, letting his legs dangle off the side. “Sir has broken the soap dispenser,” Jarvis announced.

Steve snorted and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did he hurt himself?”

“No, Captain. It does not appear so.”

Steve let it go and went back to waiting in silence. He waited patiently, knowing Jarvis would warn him if anything happened, until the bathroom door flew open and Tony’s stormed out clad in a terry cloth robe. He had dried his hair so it lay in its usual soft waves and trimmed his beard. He did not, however, look any happier than he had when he kicked Steve out. “I’ll fix it later,” he snapped, even though Steve hadn’t said anything. He glared at Steve’s placid look and went over to the closet, throwing the doors open. He slammed drawers open and closed, pulling on a pair of boxers. He then paused as he looked over the clothing hanging inside the huge closet. One side was full of neatly hung suits. The other had jeans and more casual clothing. Tony scowled. “I want to go back to the workshop.”

Steve stood and went over to pluck a blue polo shirt from its hanger. “We are going out,” he said.

“I don’t want to go out,” complained Tony. In a complete reversal of his behavior in the bathroom, Tony allowed Steve to help him dress. Steve slipped the robe from Tony’s shoulders and pulled the shirt over his head, folding down the collar with a broad sweep of his hands. Tony pulled on a pair of jeans and even sat on a chair so Steve could kneel in front of him and put socks and tennis shoes on his feet. “I want to go back to the workshop,” he insisted.

“We are going out. You need fresh air and sunlight.”

“This is New York. There is no such thing as fresh air,” snapped Tony.

“It will be good for you,” Steve said gently. Tony twisted away from him and snatched up a cell phone from the dresser. Steve tugged it from his hands and slipped it into his own pocket. Tony gave an insulted squawk. “You’ll enjoy it. I promise.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire!” sang Tony as Steve herded him out of the bedroom and across the penthouse floor to the elevator. “Jarvis, workshop,” the engineer commanded once they were inside.

“No, Tony. Jarvis, take us down to the garage,” said Steve.

Tony glared at Steve. “Jarvis, don’t you dare,” he hissed.

“I am sorry, Sir,” the AI replied, sounding incredibly pained. “But I must side with Captain Rogers in this instance.” The elevator doors opened onto the dim interior of the garage, smelling of oil and gasoline. Happy looked up from where he was leaning against a dark sedan, his grin falling into a frown.

Steve retrieved the backpack from the floor of the elevator and stepped out. Tony pressed himself back into a corner. “I do not want to and you can’t make me,” he snarled.

“No, I can’t make you. Nor would I want to,” said Steve, a little sadly. He swung one of the backpack straps up over a shoulder and held out his hands in a plea, palms up and fingers loosely curled. “But I can ask. Please, Tony? Come with me?” Tony’s eyes narrowed, gaze darting all over. Steve was aware that all Tony had to do was call for Happy and the chauffeur slash bodyguard would put himself between Steve and Tony, no questions asked, even though Happy knew that there was no way in heaven or hell that Steve would ever harm Tony. But Steve also knew that without a confrontation to fight against that Tony’s fit was derailed and waited for Tony’s agitation to huff itself out. Tony fidgeted for a long moment before lunging forward and around Steve, striding toward the car. Happy barely got the door open before Tony was ducking inside.

“Where to?” Happy asked softly as Steve neared the car. He had an understanding but sad smile on his face.

Steve winced a little. “Central Park should be good,” he muttered in reply, sitting in the empty seat. Happy nodded and shut the door behind him.

Tony was huddled against the far door, tracing his finger over the window in an elaborate pattern. “Traitor,” he muttered distractedly as Happy climbing into the driver’s seat, eyes and mind focused beyond the car. Steve knew he was once more thinking about the project that had failed down in the workshop.

Happy’s shoulders hunched a little. “Sorry, boss,” he said as he started the car and pulled away. They made good time through the midmorning traffic. Steve was thankful since he didn’t want Tony to have any more time than necessary to work himself into another fit. He already recognized the lines Tony was tracing on the window as numbers and equations. Tony would sink back into his head and the frustration that had consumed him down in the workshop would rise again. What little headway that Steve had gained would be lost. So, he was grateful when Happy pulled the car up at one of the entrances to Central Park.

“Thank you, Happy,” Steve said, opening his door and stepping out. He leaned down and held out his hand to Tony.

The dark haired man scowled and jerked his head away, folding his arms over his chest. Happy got out of the driver’s seat and opened the other passenger door. Tony slide out of the car and squinted in the bright sunlight. Happy quickly guided him out of the roadway. “Thanks, Happy,” Tony muttered lowly, at least semi-aware he was being needlessly surly towards his friend.

Steve gave Happy a nod as Tony safely reached the sidewalk. “I’ll call when we’re ready to leave, Happy. Thanks again.”

Happy glanced at Tony’s tense back where the billionaire was glaring in the general direction of some hapless trees. “Sure thing, Cap. I’ll be waiting,” Happy said in an understanding tone, getting back into the car and swinging into traffic.

Tony scowled as he looked around, glaring as people streamed in and out of the park entrance. “Central Park?” he asked snidely. “Is it time for walkies? Am I the pet dog now? Do I need to be taken out so I don’t pee on the carpet and start chewing your slippers?”

“Don’t be like that,” begged Steve, reaching out to touch Tony’s elbow. The dark haired man twitched away from him and continued to glower. “I know you like the park, Tony. Let’s walk around for a while,” Steve said soothingly. He entered the walkway, glancing back frequently to keep an eye on Tony. The genius followed in fits, stopping to glare at everything and everyone while keeping the same general distance between himself and Steve. Tony was following, just not happily. Steve stopped and bought two small bags of popcorn from a vender. He rolled the top of one bag closed and stuffed it into the backpack and then offered the other to Tony.

Tony stared at the brown paper sack and little yellow puffs as if Steve were offering him dog crap. “No, thank you,” he said icily.

“You sure?” wheedled Steve, waving the bag back and forth. “They’re still warm.” Tony gave him a blank stare, unmoved. Steve shrugged. “More for me.” He began to wander off toward one of the trails. A glance back found Tony to once again be following Steve at a distance. Steve would take what he could get at the moment. The path that Steve had chosen led deeper into the trees and the cool shade soon enveloped them. The sounds of people and the city floated away and the noise of birdsong and things scurrying through the leaf litter took over. Steve remained quiet, waiting as Tony drifted closer to him until they were walking side by side. Steve hid a smile by turning his head away. Tony was like a skittish feral animal when like this, all disgruntled and poised to snap or snarl at the least provocation.

“What are you doing?” asked Tony suddenly in an annoyed tone.

Steve threw another piece of popcorn off the trail. “Feeding our friend.” Tony stopped and turned, catching the squirrel that had been following them in the act of snatching up the popcorn. The fluffy tail froze before the squirrel darted away with its prize, scampering up a tree. Steve tossed a few more pieces of popcorn into the trees and they were promptly descended upon by a group of noisy brown chickadees. He smiled and offered the popcorn bag to Tony again.

Tony huffed and turned away. “Pests and vermin,” Tony snapped. He headed down a pathway that sloped along a small creek. Steve chuckled and continued walking. Tony waxed and waned like the moon around Steve, sometimes walking next to him and other times disappearing altogether. Once Tony returned with his sleeve wet and another time with a leaf tangled in his hair. Steve kept his pace, walking leisurely through the woods. He’d marched the length and breadth of France and Germany before; he could stroll through the park for far longer than it would take Tony to tire his curiosity and body out.

Steve felt slightly bad. Despite what Tony had said earlier, this was a little like taking him out for a walk to avoid him destroying things in frustration; all analogies to shoes aside and the thing Tony was most likely to destroy being himself. But taking Tony into another environment was pretty much the only way to knock him out of his head and derail his failing mood. Still, it was mean and Steve didn’t enjoy the thought or what it meant for Tony’s mental health. Not that that stopped a ridiculous amount of fondness swelling in his chest when Tony reappeared rubbing his eyes and fighting back a yawn like a sleepy toddler. The steel like tension that had held Tony was disappearing and the engineer slipped his hand into the crook of Steve’s elbow and allowed the other man to guide him along the walkway. (Steve suspected Tony did this only because he knew how it pleased Steve. Clint had only teased Tony about being a girl once. After a week of looking hunted, Clint had apologized profusely. Steve figured that a week of having an annoyed AI trying to maim you was enough for anyone, not to mention the actual female Avenger taking exception to the remark.) Steve reached up and plucked the leaf from Tony’s hair now that he felt he wouldn’t get his fingers bitten off and changed direction.

The sound of running water grew louder and Tony slipped away to inspect the small waterfall that rushed into the pond. Steve continued on his way to a grassy spot under the trees and sat, dumping the backpack next to him. A pair of young children and a woman was on the opposite shore and an old man sat on a nearby bench reading a book. There were a couple teenagers on a walkway, one of whom Steve thought was, yes he was indeed, taking Tony’s picture with his cell phone. Steve shot them an impressive scowl and they hurried away. There was a time and place for that type of thing and this was not it. Tony roamed around the shore of the pond, poking into hollows and getting mud on his shoes. Steve had to wonder how much time Tony had spent in nature as a child if this curiosity for flora and fauna was still his reaction as an adult.

Eventually Tony returned to Steve’s side and sat next to him, tearing a pinecone apart in his lap. When the poor pinecone had revealed all its secrets to Tony, he brushed off his legs and curled into Steve’s side. A fine shudder traveled through his body and then he slumped against Steve’s shoulder. Steve pressed a kiss to Tony’s dark hair, pleased, and dug his sketchbook and pencils from the backpack. “Do you want a picture?” he muttered softly. Calm brown eyes glanced around the pond before Tony pointed to a group of ducks swimming placidly along. Steve opened his sketchbook to a blank page without comment and selected a pencil.

After a few minutes of Tony watching Steve draw, he rolled onto his knees and turned his attention to the ducks themselves. They swam gently along, quacking quietly. Tony inched himself forward. A mallard, his head a shiny blue, flapped his wings. Tony inched himself forward again. The water fowl eyed him warily. Tony snatched up the half empty popcorn bag from beside Steve’s knee and threw a few pieces into the water. Some of the bolder ducks dove forward to snatch them up. Tony scooted toward the edge of the water some more, throwing more popcorn into the water until he had the attention of every duck in the pond. Eventually Tony was perched on a flat stone at the water’s edge, the ducks happily quacking for more popcorn. Steve turned to a blank page in his sketchbook and began to fill in the graceful lines of Tony’s spine and the slope of his shoulders.

Steve was just beginning work on the rock Tony sat on when the dark haired man ran out of popcorn. Tony upended the bag above the water, a few small popcorn bits falling out, and then twisted around to crawl back up the bank to Steve. The ducks quacked forlornly. “Hold on. We’ve got more,” muttered Tony, dragging the backpack toward him. He ignored the computer tablet inside and fished out the second bag of popcorn. The ducks greeted Tony’s return to the rock, and the popcorn, happily. Steve couldn’t help a smile, shading in the suggestion of trees and plants on the other side of the pond for background. The ducks crowded around Tony, the dark haired man looking at them curiously as he scattered popcorn across the water’s surface. One duck waddled up on the rock Tony was sitting on and pecked at his shoelace. “That is not food,” muttered Tony, eyeing the water fowl cautiously.

Steve drew in several of the ducks, darkened the waves of Tony’s hair, carefully added the ripples in the water, and idly feathered in grass and foreground. Some of the popcorn actually made it into Tony’s mouth. The ducks did not appreciate this from the amount of noise they made. A breeze swept through the trees, scattering leaves, and one of the kids on the other side of the pond let out a laugh. Steve was fiddling with the line of Tony’s waist when the second bag of popcorn ran out. Like before, Tony upended the bag over the water to let the last few crumbs of popcorn fall out. “Sorry,” he told the birds. “All gone, guys.”

Steve couldn’t remember seeing a sadder group of ducks than when Tony crawled off the rock and came back to curl against his side. He didn’t bother to hide the drawing he had done of Tony feeding the ducks. Swiftly trying to hide the page would only arouse Tony’s suspicions and curiosity and Steve liked the relaxed and calm aura that Tony was surrounded with now. The engineer leaned against Steve’s arm and laid his head down on his shoulder. The ducks drifted away and Steve reached into the backpack to retrieve one of the bottles of water. He cracked it open and handed it to Tony, who sipped at it without a fuss. Steve occupied himself with a few minor details in the picture, trying to get it just right, while Tony rested next to him, dark eyes barely open.

Finally, Tony sighed, a warm gust of breath across Steve’s neck. “I want to go home,” he announced. “I’m hungry and tired and it’s obvious why the stupid thing wouldn’t work and I want to go home.”

That was what Steve had been waiting for. “Ok,” he agreed easily. He shut his sketchbook and put everything back into the backpack. He stood and held his hand out to Tony, pleased when the dark haired man allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Steve threw away the empty popcorn bags and crossed the grass to the pathway.

Tony followed him, tucking his hand into the crook of Steve’s elbow again as they headed down the trail. “Where are we, anyway?” he muttered.

“The Pool, in the North Woods,” answered Steve, fishing out his cell phone and firing off a text to Happy. “It was one of my favorite places as a child. Well, it was until Bucky pushed me in when we were fourteen.” That teased a small smile from Tony, who loved hearing little tidbits about Steve’s childhood. It hurt less to talk of Bucky if he was doing it for Tony’s benefit. They walked in silence for a while.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Tony, almost too quietly to hear.

Steve shook his head, a negative sounding hum rumbling in his throat, and squeezed Tony’s fingers with his free hand. “Nothing to be sorry for.” He led them unerringly back toward the main pathway and turned them toward the entrance they’d arrived at. They passed by the popcorn stand again and more than one person pulled out their cell phone to take their picture. Steve frowned a little but let it happen. Captain America outside of his uniform had a bit of anonymity but Tony Stark was a recognizable face even before he became Iron Man and was even more so afterward. Tony ignored them with the ease of long practice.

The car pulled up in front of them and Happy popped out of the driver’s seat. Steve waved him back in, opening the back passenger side door and helping Tony inside himself. “Chivalrous dork,” muttered Tony with a ghost of a smirk as he slid inside the car.

“With you? Always,” Steve replied with an amused smile. He sat, putting the backpack down on the floor, and shut the door.

“Home?” asked Happy, glancing at them in the rearview mirror as he pulled into traffic. The sun was edging toward late afternoon.

Steve cocked an eyebrow at Tony. “Still hungry?”

“Starving. Burgers?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” replied Steve. “Happy, head for Carl’s. Jarvis?”

The soft music from the radio cut off and the voice of the AI drifted through. “Yes, Captain Rogers?”

“Our usual order from Carl’s, if you please.”

“Of course, Captain.”

Steve hitched his hip up and dug Tony’s cellphone out of his pocket. He handed the device to the other man. Tony hadn’t had any interest in the computer tablet before but Steve knew that the genius would want to check his messages. Tony turned the cellphone on and it gave off several buzzes. He sighed and began scrolling through them. He tucked himself up under Steve’s arm and snuggled against him. “Jarvis, send a message to Pepper that I’m alright, Steve just kidnaped me, and I’ll see her later.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Jarvis through the radio. Steve rubbed his hand up and down Tony’s arm as he erased messages and fired off responses. “Sir?” asked Jarvis suddenly. “Miss Potts is asking at what time you will see her later.”

“Tomorrow morning. Tony needs some sleep first,” Steve replied for his lover. He could feel Tony sagging tiredly against him more and more as time passed. “Have her come over at 8am. We’ll share breakfast.” Jarvis acknowledged the order and sent off the message to Pepper. Happy pulled smoothly into the parking lot of Carl’s Burger Joint. Tony tossed away his phone, either done with his messages or just done with it in general. It was hard to tell with Tony sometimes.

The front door to the restaurant opened and a young woman in a red apron came striding out. Two white paper bags and a cardboard tray with two fountain drinks were clutched in her hands. Steve rolled down his window, removing his arm from around Tony. “Hey Cap!” the waitress said cheerfully.

“Good afternoon, Melissa,” greeted Steve.

She handed in the cardboard tray. “The one with the red sticker is yours, Tony. No ice, just as you like it.” The two white bags followed. “That’s the cheeseburger, extra cheese and Dad made sure there were no pickles this time, and this one is your mushroom and Swiss burger, Cap. Careful, the fries are hot,” Melissa warned. She plucked a handful of napkins and two straws from her apron and handed them to Steve.

“Awesome,” said Tony, fishing in his bag for greasy goodness. “Thanks, Missy!”

Steve handed over a small roll of twenty dollar bills, much more than the food cost. “Thank you, Melissa. Keep the change.”

“Thanks. You guys have a good day.” Melissa waved as Happy pulled the car away, the window rolling back up.

Tony unfolded the wrapper and took a huge bite of his burger, suddenly ravenous. “Oh, so good,” he groaned.

“Should I be jealous?” asked Steve, raising one eyebrow.

“Of one of Carl’s burgers? Yes. Yes, you should be,” teased Tony. He fished some fries from out of the bag and stuffed them in his mouth. Steve pried open the cup holders between the front seats and set their drinks down. “Carl wins all the awards,” praised Tony around his mouthful.

“I’m sure he appreciates the thought, Tony,” said Steve, taking a bite out of his own food. He watched as Tony wolfed down his burger, his fries disappearing just as fast. “Slow down. You’ll make yourself sick.”

“I didn’t know I was so hungry!” exclaimed Tony. He sipped at his soda. Steve didn’t say anything as Tony finished the last few of his fries and licked salt off his fingers. The super-solider knew what was coming next. He patiently waited for the dark haired man to crash and sure enough, belly full, Tony’s eyes began to droop and he listed sideways against Steve.

Happy pulled smoothly into the underground garage of the Tower and guided the town car to a stop in front of the elevator. “Sorry about the mess, Happy,” muttered Steve, rolling down the top of his takeout bag with his half-finished burger. Tony muttered in annoyance as the bicep he was using as a pillow moved under his head.

“Don’t worry about it, Captain,” Happy replied. “I’ll bring up your leftovers and bag.”

Steve gave the driver a thankful smile, prodding a half asleep Tony upright. “Thanks.” He pushed the door open and coaxed Tony out of the car, muttering soothingly into the engineer’s ear as Tony swayed on his feet. Steve bumped the car door closed with his hip and herded a grumbly Tony into the elevator. “Just a little further, Tony, and then you can go to sleep,” promised Steve.

Tony leaned against Steve’s side and squinted against the elevator’s bright lights as the lift rose. “I was asleep. You woke me,” he complained.

“You can’t sleep in the car.”

“Can too. I’ve slept in worse places.”

“My point exactly,” Steve muttered. Tony’s retort was swallowed by a jaw cracking yawn. Steve fought down a smile and rubbed soothingly at his hip. The elevator opened to the penthouse with a ding and Steve propelled them forward.

“Welcome back, Sir. Captain Rogers. I trust all is well?” greeted Jarvis, like he hadn’t been tracking his creator with every available camera and overly excited capitalized Twitter post since Tony left the Tower.

“Hey J,” Tony slurred as Steve guided them around the living room and down the hallway toward the bedroom. “How’s the fort?”

“All systems are fully functional, Sir. Nothing to report,” Jarvis replied primly.

“Awesome,” Tony murmured as Steve eased him down onto the edge of the bed and knelt to remove his shoes. The engineer went boneless and flopped back onto the bed, his legs dangling off the side. “Sleep now?” he whined.

“In a moment,” replied Steve, getting up to place Tony’s shoes in the closet. “Let’s get you undressed first.” Tony groaned and rolled over, kicking his way up to the pillows like a landed seal. With a chuckle Steve caught his ankle and wiggled his hands under Tony’s hip to unbutton his jeans, pulling them off by the cuffs. “I swear, you are as bad as a two year old,” teased Steve.

“’M not,” muttered Tony, curling around a pillow in his silk boxers and polo shirt. Steve grabbed his knee and pulled him over, yanking the blanket out from under him and tucking the engineer in. Tony grumbled at him, burying his head into the sheets. He groped a hand out to the side until he caught the bottom of Steve’s shirt and gave it a tug. “You too,” he pleaded softly. “Want you here.”

Steve chuckled and toed off his shoes. “Alright, if you want.” He took off his pants and folded them, one half-open brown eye peeking up at him from the bed. He climbed into the bed and Tony rolled into him, tucking his head under Steve’s chin and breathing warmly across his collarbone. Steve wrapped his arms around him with a shiver. “Brat,” he said fondly.

“’M not,” Tony grumbled again, a pink tongue poking out to lick skin.

Steve cocked one eyebrow, rubbing at Tony’s back. “I thought you were tired and wanted to sleep?” A sharp little nip of teeth where his neck met his shoulder made Steve jerk.

“Silly Cap.” The sweep of Tony’s tongue soothed the sting. “Wanna have some fun first.” The engineer wiggled a hand between them and stroked across Steve’s stomach, pushing his t-shirt up. Nimble fingers wandered up Steve’s torso and toyed with a nipple. Tony tipped his head up to kiss the underside of Steve’s jaw.

“As tired as you are, I’m surprised you have enough energy for this,” huffed Steve, sliding his hands down to cup Tony’s ass and drag him forward. Their cocks rubbed together and Tony gave a little surprised breath.

Tony threw a leg over Steve’s thigh and rolled his hips in retaliation, pressing their lengths tightly together and grinning at Steve’s grunt. “Stevie, I always have enough energy for sex,” he teased. Steve chuckled in response and leaned down to press their lips together. Tony slipped one hand down the blonde’s torso and pushed his fingers under the band of Steve’s boxers, caressing the skin below his bellybutton.

They both shoved at each other’s clothing, bunching up shirts and pushing boxers haphazardly down their thighs. Tony ran his fingers lightly over Steve’s cock, teasing him into full hardness. Steve returned the favor by slipping his hand between Tony’s legs and gently rolling his balls. They exchanged little nipping kisses as they fisted each other and began a swift stroking. Tony rubbed under the head of Steve’s cock with his thumb while Steve played with Tony’s slit, spreading the wetness down his length.

Their breathing picked up, little groans breaking between them. Steve pulled Tony close so that their cocks were nestled together and wrapped his big palm around them both, jerking roughly. Tony grabbed Steve’s forearm, thrusting his hips as Steve worked them together. Pleasure gathered hot in their bellies. “So good,” groaned Tony, dropping his head forward to bite at Steve’s collarbone. Steve twisted his fist as he pumped, his rhythm failing as his orgasm built.

Tony ran his fingernails gently over Steve’s nipples and every muscle in Steve’s body went tight as he came, strings of white painting their stomachs. Steve kept his hand moving, working himself through his orgasm, until Tony let out a thin wail against Steve’s throat and followed his lover, body trembling. Steve gently let their spent cocks go, panting against Tony’s hair. Tony lifted his own hand and lazily licked their mingled come from his fingers. He then gave a languid stretch, body arching, and looked teasingly at Steve through his eyelashes.

Steve gave a little growl and tilted Tony’s chin up, sweeping his tongue inside the other man’s mouth and chasing the taste. Tony gave a pleased little chuckle into the kiss and Steve pulled back. “You really are such a brat,” Steve muttered. Tony smiled smugly up at him and snuggled back into the pillows. He yawned as he settled and Steve rolled his eyes, pushing himself from the bed. Steve pulled off his ruined clothing and tossed them into the hamper in the bathroom. He then wet a cloth and cleaned off his chest, a little smile quirking his lips.

Steve returned to the bed and wrestled Tony’s clothing off admit sleepy protests. “Hush. Let me clean you off and then you can sleep,” he said softly, using the cloth to wipe the dark haired man down. He cleaned the delicate skin and then leaned down to kiss the curve of Tony’s shoulder.

Hazy brown eyes blinked up at Steve, one hand lifting to weakly pat at Steve’s chest. “Love you,” Tony muttered sleepily.

Steve smiled and leaned down to press a quick kiss to Tony’s lips. “I love you too. Now, go to sleep.” He pulled the sheets up over his lover and took Tony’s soiled clothing to the bathroom. He pitched Tony’s shirt and boxers into the hamper and returned to the bed, sliding in besides his lover. Tony’s eyes flickered open as Steve curled around him. “Sleep,” whispered Steve, sliding his arm under Tony’s head. Tony sighed and his body relaxed, breathing even. “Lights, Jarvis, if you please.”

“Of course, Captain,” replied the AI. The lights in the bathroom turned off and the shades pulled across the windows, the bedroom growing dim. Steve twitched the blanket into place around them and settled down in the bed. He checked to make sure Tony was resting peacefully one more time and then allowed himself to slip into sleep as well.


End file.
